Of Broken Futures
by mr. eames
Summary: The only reason that Barty Crouch Jr. visited Grimmauld Place was him, after all. And he couldn't explain why. Logically, they should hate each other with every fiber of their being. Maybe they did. Oneshot Sirius/Barty.


**Of Broken Futures**

**A/N**: I find Sirius and Barty to be so compatible and contrasting in every way. I've read a few great stories featuring them and this is what came of me trying to write something. Barty's pov because he's wonderful. To me at least. Barty's age is somewhat debatable since there's no exact date, so I made him a year younger than Reg, making him two years younger than Siri. He could either be two or three years younger and I figured two would make them more relatable.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters, I only own the situation. In my mind, they're both still alive.

Every Christmas vacation since he had met Regulus Black he had gone to the Black family home. Intricate lies laced the walls of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, hanging from the ancient portraits and clinging to the despairing wallpaper that served as dour decoration. The place was definitely different from his own house. The house that Bartemius Crouch, Jr. lived in was, in comparison, warmly lit and expertly decorated by his mother, but completely corrupted by the power his father collected in his darkening heart year after year.

Bartemius Crouch, his father to be exact, was the reason that Christmas vacation was not spent at his own home. If lies made up the home of the Black family, then deceit was the foundation for the Crouch abode. They all knew that every action the other made was on false pretenses, but the principles on which they lived dictated that they did what they wanted to do as long as it didn't disrespect the rest of the family. Get drunk, get smashed, get plastered, just make sure no one sees you. Do everything without honor as long as you can wake up the next day and keep up the reputation of the family. Sometimes he was tempted point out their only reputation was that of being power-hungry, but he thought better of it when he watched his father's rage.

The reason that he wasn't home over the holidays might be attributed to his father's apparent business trips, but the rationale for going to Grimmauld Place didn't have a thing to do with his twisted father and had everything to do with a few certain members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, a phrase which Regulus had pointed out to him on the tapestry that hung in one of the rooms of the house. Barty had nodded at it, remembered it, kept it in his mind like everything else someone told him, but had barely been paying attention.

Regulus Black may have been _how _he ended up at the Black house for almost every Christmas vacation the past few years. It wasn't as if Sirius Black had ever extended a hand to invite him anywhere or even exchanged more than a few words with him. In fact, Sirius seemed to dislike Barty to the core, seeing him as a bad influence on his little brother. But that didn't stop Barty from being friends with Regulus or from visiting intermittently during summer vacation. It may have even fueled his desire to visit the sinister house.

Sirius Black disliked Barty Crouch, Jr. at best. At worst he hated him as he seemed to in every day discourse. Words shared between the two boys straddled the thin border between hostile and polite, keeping up a communication system that was based upon the fact that each one of them should really abhor the other.

"Two vacations in a row? Does your family detest you as much as the rest of us do, Crouch?" Sirius, leaning over the banister of the staircase, had called down to Barty when he had arrived during July, the summer before his third year. The Christmas vacation during his second year had been his first spent at the Black house.

"More than likely. I know firsthand that what you've just stated is true for you, so I wouldn't be talking if I were you."

A barking laugh, the head disappeared back upstairs, one word heard as he retreated to his room, that warm summer. "Touché."

They never talked during school. It was the principle of the thing. Scathing words could be said to one another in the safety of one of their own homes, but never in the corridors of Hogwarts, Actually, Barty had expected Sirius to be even more scornful towards him when they bumped into one another in the halls or saw each other on the Grounds, but they practically ignored one another, keeping a distance when they could and acting indifferent when they couldn't. Once they had even ran into each other, Barty late to class and Sirius probably chasing some girl.

"Oh, fuck." Parchments and quills went flying into the air, Barty's Potions textbook slid into an alcove, an unfinished Charms essay fluttered dangerously close to a half-opened window.

Sirius had helped him gather his things up without so much as a word, handing him the textbook with a gratuitous wink and then he was gone, leaving Barty with a furious blush on his face that he convinced even himself was due to wanton irritation at the accidental event. Professor Slughorn took fifteen points from Slytherin, which Barty used as yet another reason to be fuming at the happening in the halls.

The next time they actually talked wasn't until Barty's fourth year, Christmas vacation, after one certainly explosive fight between Sirius and his parents, something that had shocked Barty. Rarely was there a fight between the parents and children in the Crouch home, if by rarely you meant never. Sirius had stomped up the staircase, only to run into Barty who had been stealthily listening to the entire row from a spot he now realized was less than genius as he collided with the older boy.

"What in the bloody hell are you looking at?" Sirius had hissed at him, angrily, even though Barty was a bit forced to look at the Gryffindor, seeing as they were only surrounded by melancholy wallpaper with designs of simplistic minds, the only two in the hallway that was lit by candles in the late hour, an oddly warm glow on Sirius' face as he glowered at Barty.

"Seeing as I'm not blind I seem to be looking at you, Black," he shot back, although there was no force behind this remark on account of Sirius Black being just a few feet away in the relatively enclosed space that was dancing with shadows and thoughts.

"Listening to me and my parents yell at one another like there's no tomorrow, were you?" He hadn't responded to this and only glanced to the left, finding nothing to look at but the unimaginative patterns that graced the walls of the home, definitely less interesting than the strange attractiveness that was vulgarly shown on Sirius' livid face. "Look, I'm sure your family spends lovely evenings beside the fireplace exchanging stories of what happened to you that day and laughing together at simply crazy things that happen, but we're not like that and if you're going to be around here all the time like you are, then get used to it."

"That's not what we're like," Barty muttered, surprised at the misconception his classmate towards his home life. Quite on the contrary the family spent so much time apart that there was no time for fighting nor was their time to talk about their days. Perhaps the only member of his family that took time to talk to Barty was his mother, and she was so often busy being a prominent member of society that this was a scarcity.

"Really, so you guys argue every day just like us?" A song in sarcastic major.

"Actually, we barely talk, if you really want to know. Sometimes I'd much rather be able to have a fight with them than not talk to them at all." He never talked to people about these things, so why had he done it then, to Sirius Black of all people, on Christmas Eve, as the time ticked closer to the official holiday? Regulus had long since fallen asleep, but why was Barty telling all of this to someone who didn't care in the least?

"Oh." Surprise registered on his companion's face, and neither one of them looked at each other for a few silent seconds, awkwardness settling over the situation, a fine sprinkling just like the snow outside. They said nothing more, quickly parted ways and Barty found that horrid blush was back, afflicting him once more as he returned to Regulus' room where he slept on the floor that night, strange dreams where his parents seemed to care and Sirius was hiding in the shadows filled his mind that night.

The next summer was oddly void of all things Sirius. Regulus explained that Sirius had run away and was staying at one of his friend's houses. The tapestry was now devoid of Sirius' name and a scorched hole was there in place of it, the fringed edges of which Barty traced over and over again, while Regulus' watched him with a curious set of eyes.

Now, as his fifth year began, he was watching them, the three other vagrants along with Sirius Black who made up a school-wide infamous group. Self-proclaimed marauders, as it were. James Potter in all his egotistical glory, priding himself with Quidditch skills that he seemed to equate as worthy to the glory of some sort of hero. Remus Lupin, that curiously sickly boy who seemed to be, at best, an add-on to the group, often too busy with literature, or least pretended to be, to notice the antics of his friends. Peter Pettigrew, that atrocious tag-along that worshipped the ground the other three walked on, his only friends. Sirius Black was different from them though, Barty was sure. He was conceited and ambitious, too prideful for his own good and seemed to have no real interest in learning although he was obviously gifted. Yet there was something about Sirius that made him worth Barty's time.

They met by accident even though Barty had been trying to figure out some way to meet up with his older schoolmate, fate seemed to decide he was worth it's time and allowed them to cross paths once more on the Grounds, while they should have been at dinner, yet both of them were wandering around outdoors, the younger of the two having found his place watching the Lake from afar and the older one still searching for somewhere to go when he happened upon the other.

"If it isn't Barty Crouch, Jr., my favorite of all of Regulus' dear friends." A highly meaningless string of words as Regulus Black had very few friends and, furthermore, even less of any substantial merit or whom were known at all well by Sirius. It could be said that, in the very least, Sirius knew Barty better than he knew most Slytherins, but again this statement didn't mean much at all.

"Why aren't you at dinner?" A truly surprising event making this one even more unlikely.

"I'm getting kind of fat, it's about time for a diet, I think." When he wasn't fat in the very least. Perhaps not as skinny as Barty who had never really made it past that awkward stage of not being able to gain much weight, never losing his freckles, keeping that uncontrollable hair that fell into his eyes even at this moment.

Barty snorted at the comment and simply turned away, looking towards the Lake as if it would somehow take his mind off of the person standing just a few feet away. Sitting now, he realized, then laying on the grass and closing his eyes contently. Nothing was uncomfortable about this moment that they were sharing, it was somehow serene in its own sort of way, but it felt immeasurably wrong at the same time. "But, really, why are you out here?"

A glance at Sirius revealed that his eyes were narrowed, almost closed, yet still visibly open and looking at Barty. "Looking for you." There were about two seconds of quiet and then Barty snickered and Sirius actually smiled. "But, besides that, I guess I just needed a few minute to myself or something like that."

"Which leads you to come out to the Grounds and sit by me?"

"Seems like it."

"Alright by me."

"Really?" Barty turned to see Sirius Black, now looking up at him with relatively wide gray eyes. It was exactly surprise that lay in those fathomless eyes, but a general array of confusion that swam in their depths, never quite surfacing clearly.

"You're acting as if I hate you or something."

Finally he had elicited that barking laugh, although it made Barty jump slightly at the sound, and he hid his smile in his shoulder as he watched Sirius laugh, thinking that he should not be getting the amount of joy he was out of these unusual circumstances. "I wasn't aware that you _didn't _hate me, Crouch."

"Truthfully, I sort of do when you call me that." Too many people called him by his last name, indicating to his mind that they were speaking of his father. Such a comparison seemed unjust in his own mind, as he was a completely different person than his father was and would always strive to do whatever he could to be against his father's views. Perhaps he was acting as too much of a 'rebel.'

"Oh." The same word that ended the conversation the vacation of the past year. It was only mid-September now, they were barely into the school year and already it seemed as if Sirius had changed immensely. His hair was longer, not by much, but more unruly this year, more free. Barty was almost embarrassed by that fact that he looked largely the same as he had in his first year, save for him getting somewhat taller. "Well, sorry about that one, erm, _Barty_." His name was said almost with caution. "So why aren't you at dinner? Avoiding your friends?"

Barty found he was unsure of how to answer this question. His knees were pulled up to his chest and the moment became occupied with his playing with the fringed bottom of the left leg of his trousers. Some seventh year had stepped on it not a day earlier, the boy in question was just barely worth Salazar's time. "That would be a good question," he said after a moment, "if I had any of those."

"Regulus?"

"In theory, but not in practice."

"Care to explain that one?" An honestly curious face, something Barty wouldn't have expected from Sirius.

"I suppose," he gave in. "I like Regulus well enough. I call him my friend and he does the same for me. When he has no one else to be around and when I'm not being hounded by some second-rate classmates, that's when we're friends. We don't tell each other much, but we talk a lot. We're friends, but we're not."

"You don't have any other friends at all?"

"I have people who talk to me. I have people I talk to. That doesn't mean I have any friends." The true definition of a friend, in Barty's mind at least, was someone you could tell everything to and he hadn't yet met someone who filled that requirement. In essence, the only real friend he had was himself. Of course he had people whom he conversed with, but in minimalist, simplistic ways, never delving into the topics that were actually on his mind. Regulus came awfully close, but there was a wall between them that was impossible to climb, a virtual blockade that would never be crossed.

Here he was though, for the second time, now having a full conversation with Sirius about things he never told anyone else and _definitely _should not be discussing with him. Because, his mind told him, he did not like Sirius Black in the least. Nothing about the boy was appealing; from his vagabond attitude to the worthless people he had as friends. In fact, Barty realized, he should be envious of what the other boy had and loathe talking to him rather than finding a curious sense of solace in the situation.

"Am I your friend, Barty?" But it was a sarcastic statement, one that Sirius said aloud as he raised his eyebrows and grinned. The question would never be thoughtful and he realized this fact, they both did even as Barty, not really thinking, lay down next to the raven-haired boy and closed his own eyes with a deliberate sigh. The wind was a harsh advocate of messy tresses and it succeeded in removing the barrier of bangs that were hanging in front of Barty's eyes, begging to be opened.

When he did open his eyes and took a furtive glance at the boy next to him, moments later, he saw that Sirius' eyes were looking right back at him, unflinching in their intensity. It was a cold feeling of his soul being searched, yet Barty barely found that he had the capacity to think a coherent thought; such was the power that Sirius wielded over him. Perhaps Barty was more intelligent, but Sirius was infinitely more imposing in presence, a force to be reckoned with.

"Should probably get back to the castle, dinner will be over soon." A mutter, background noise that no one would notice.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't mean your question."

"How do you know that? Answer it," the other boy's voice insisted, all that Barty was paying attention to now as he kept his eyes shut, desperately wishing the moment away.

It didn't go away and he decided to answer while he had the chance, the only one he would ever have, he was sure. "In a way. Not like Regulus or anyone else. Not real friends, like you have. But, on some level, you could say that you're my friend." Opened his eyes tentatively and almost regretted it. Sirius' hand was making it's way towards Barty's beltline and when he felt the younger boy's eyes on him he stopped and looked up, smiling devilishly. "Ah," Barty said softly, irresolute in what to do next.

Not a problem at all for Sirius, evidently, as he ignored Barty's pseudo-resistant noises and made his advances easily. Moving closer he kissed the Slytherin's jaw line lightly, his hand reaching it's intended place, stroking the sensitive area as Barty, who kept telling himself that he couldn't help it, moaned lightly in response. Sirius was adept at things like this, rolling over so that he was on top of Barty, lips lingering together for a slow and startling moment that left Barty breathless. One of his hands found its way into Sirius' hair which felt as if it hadn't been taken care of in ages.

How exciting.

Sirius' hand was caressing his blushing cheek with a nearly frightening intimacy, leaning in for another kiss and causing friction between their trousers as a result. The feeling of Sirius' tongue entering his mouth forcefully, the hand trailing down to right above Barty's heart, the younger boy adamantly hoping that he couldn't feel the fast beat of his heart, much too fast, he needed to calm down.

Kiss after kiss made Barty feel numb and he didn't realize it, but he pulled on Sirius' hair causing the other to wince lightly and pull back, then smirk at him and attack his neck now, biting here and there and then kissing gently after causing the quick pain, an inversion that only made it harder for Barty to bear the pleasure this was causing him, closing his eyes as he moaned louder now, scarcely able to think straight now, in either sense of the word.

Just as Sirius seemed about to grant Barty another kiss on the lips he stopped, mere centimeters from the Slytherin's mouth, and whispered a few words that Barty could hardly comprehend. "Dinner's probably over by now." A longer kiss than before, this time speaking almost directly into Barty's mouth. "We should really go now." A messy kiss that made Barty clutch Sirius' arm, wordlessly asking him to stay. "This is a bad time, Barty."

For the first time Barty insinuated the kiss slowly, pulling Sirius closer, an act that suggested Sirius wasn't so keen on leaving either, considering it should have been a difficult act to grab onto that red-and-gold tie and pull the older boy down to meet his lips. They were almost flirting for a moment with light kisses until Sirius, incessant in his potent nature, bit on Barty's bottom lip, causing the boy to cry out, albeit quietly, and then they were once more exchanging saliva. Sirius even moaned, heavily, when Barty brought his knee up, hard, pressing onto the raven-haired boy's erection, more of a reaction to the stimulation he was feeling than anything.

Even at that moment, though, Sirius was moving away, even as he was breathing hard and his face matched the red stripes of his tie, he shook his head as Barty moved to grab him again. "You're just going to have to take a cold shower and deal with it, Crouch." Barty watched with discontent forming in his mind as the other boy leaned back onto the grass, a breathtaking sight among a world that Barty considered lackluster at best, with no lack of lust towards Sirius Black.

"I should probably, erm…people might be wondering where I am."

"Like _who_? Weren't you just telling me about your lack of friends?"

The words hit home with Barty and he took them in, sitting there. It seemed that the one time he divulged his thoughts to someone they used them against him. And he swore to himself that, no matter what, this would not happen again, standing up from where he sat and locking eyes with Sirius for a moment. "You're right, Black, I was."

He had turned around already and was about to walk away when parting words were spoken nonchalantly. "Don't plan on telling anyone about this, by the way." He already knew the next remark was coming and closed his eyes to lessen the blow. "Not like anyone would believe a word of it anyway." Walking away he reminded himself that Sirius was right, no one would trust him if he told him the events that had just elapsed. Before he hadn't even been thinking of telling anyone, he just wanted someone to prevent things from breaking apart in his life, but now he just wanted to forget what had happened.

That year was Sirius' last at Hogwarts and, try as he may, Barty was never given a chance to talk to him again. He was avoided and treated as nonexistent by Sirius. Regulus invited him over for Christmas vacation. Barty went, but only out of the remaining hope that his friend's brother would, for some strange reason, be waiting there for him, able to make things better. To his expected, but crucial, despair the only people waiting at Grimmauld Place were the parents of Regulus and Sirius and the house-elf that Barty came near to killing several times.

He came to the staggering and, yet, so obvious, conclusion, as he sulked around on Christmas day, that Sirius had never cared about him, that Barty hadn't even been a friend, that he had been nothing more than some sort of short-lived experiment that was just chalked up as another adventure in Sirius', probably full to bursting, mind. The cold, harsh, realization was that it had meant nothing Sirius and meant the world to Barty who had thought, for mere minutes, that everything might be alright.

Summer came quickly, but he was not invited over this year. At his own house he was allowed to stay home alone at his own insistence that he was old enough to do so and would not, contrary to parental belief, destroy anything. His father was on a Ministry excursion and his mother was never home and always with her groups of society women, while Barty was left at home wondering what _he _was doing and knowing that _he _wasn't thinking about it at all.

It had been Barty's first kiss after all.

It wouldn't be his last. His next would be received in the summer of 1995, from the lips of a Dementor. Less than a year spent in Azkaban until he escaped with the help of his parents, taken to another prison that was also known as his home, constantly in hiding, he felt that death might be a better alternative at times. Plans carried out in the name of the Dark Lord until he was caught once more. The thoughts in Bartemius Crouch, Jr.'s mind were centered upon the moment that Sirius' lips had touched his, his hands trembling in fear and ecstasy-filled memories that, as the Dementor drew nearer, turned into his worst memory, one that surprised even himself as he became a shell of what he used to be, because his last thoughts composed of the only rejection he had ever been dealt, because Sirius Black was the only thing he had ever truly wanted.

**A/N**: I wrote this over the course of about twenty-four hours, adding to it what I felt necessary and drawing inspiration from David Cook, The Beatles, Gregory House and Scrubs. I wouldn't ask if I were you. I would however review, even if you hate this story, any feedback is welcome. Should this be rated M? Quite probable, but I don't really see the point here in doing so, it's not very graphic.


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